A biased look at psychology in the world

Skepticism

December 05, 2017

The soaring demand for exorcisms in France has created a new industry of private exorcists, most of whom have no real qualifications and charge exorbitant prices for the ritual.

While the Catholic Church offers exorcisms for applicants deemed to be in need, they have stringent criteria aimed at weeding out people deemed to suffer from mental illness. As a result, thousands of applicants are rejected each year and an increasing number of people requesting exorcisms are turning to private exorcists instead. A recent article in the Mail Online presented interviews with some of these private exorcists to try to determine what services they are offering and who their clients are.

One of these private exorcists, a 57-year old self-proclaimed ordained priest named Jean Clement, says that he advertises his services online and charges about 270 UK pounds for each ritual. According to him, many of his clients come to him due to emotional problems or relationship issues which they feel have a supernatural cause. Due to rising demand, he now performs up to four exorcisms a week where it was only only one or two a month. Of the people who come to him for help, he stated that he has only ever turned away one person requesting an exorcism. Since many people find no relief for their symptoms following the exorcism, they often ask for additional sessions and some have reportedly paid thousands of dollars for the private exorcisms.

In that same article, Father Georges Berson, one of only two priests in Paris authorized to carry out exorcisms, states that false exorcists like Clement are preying on desperate people who would be better off seeking mental health counseling. Though legitimate exorcists don't charge a fee, the prospect of a quick cure for whatever concerns them means more potential customers than ever. Part of the problem stems from the recent influx of movies and televisions shows surrounding exorcism and the supposed supernatural forces at work.

But this soaring demand for exorcisms is hardly limited to France. In the United States, numerous evangelists and "demonologists" offer their services online and, given the lack of real regulation, these self-proclaimed exorcists are free to make grandiose claims about successful cases with little real risk of exposure. As for the Catholic Church in the United States, the number of priests trained to conduct exorcisms has risen from 12 to 50 and are still unable to keep up with demand.

The Mail Online article also interviews Father Vincent Lambert of the Archdiocese of Indianapolis who blames the influx of new cases on "wavering faith" and the rise of drugs and pornography. The problem isn’t that the devil has upped his game," he said, "but more people are willing to play it." In the meantime, the Catholic Church and other formal religions that offer exorcisms continue to turn away people requesting exorcism. We will likely be hearing a lot more about private exorcists in future.

December 03, 2017

Often appearing out of nowhere (or so it seems at times), rumours have a way of spreading rapidly. Whether spread by word-of-mouth or, more often these days, by social media, the most popular rumours have a tendency to confirm the basic beliefs people have about other people and the world around them. And thus, these rumours are believed because people often want them to be true. Still, by the time these rumours run their course, the damage left behind in the form of ruined reputations and mistrust can often take years to heal. If it ever does.

And so it proved in 1996 in the Egyptian city of Mansoura. Located in northern Egypt about 120 kilometers north of Cairo, Mansoura didn't seem to be a likely target for a strange Israeli scheme involving HIV-infected women and hormone-laced gum, but the panic generated by a series of stories published in a popular opposition weekly would soon change that. As a forum for the Arab Democratic Nasserist Party, the weekly newspaper Al-Arabi had a reputation for publishing lurid stories about Israel and their continuing struggle to destabilize Egyptian society. Still, despite the sensational nature of their stories, they certainly knew their audience.

Beginning in July, 1996, Al-Arabi began publishing a series of stories with titles such as "Israel Launches Sex War" and "Pharmacists Sell Sex Bombs." All of the stories had the same basic theme: that Israel was engaged in a covert campaign to corrupt Egypt's young people (particularly its young women). Since none of the HIV-positive women supposedly planted by Israel actually materialized, Al-Arabi's coverage quickly shifted to the "sex gum" that had supposedly surfaced in cities like Mansoura.

Said to be laced with "sexual stimulants", the tainted gum (sold under brand names like "Aroma" and "Splay") reportedly inflamed the sexual passions of the young women who chewed it. Spurred on by the newspaper stories, rumours quickly spread about the bizarre sexual antics of formerly demure college students under the influence of the gum. Along with stories about female students chasing after their male classmates, female students interviewed on campus described how fearful they were that they might become affected as well. Not only were women warned not to accept gum from males they didn't know, but fathers in Mansoura began keeping their daughters at home rather than let them attend university classes.

Though western journalists largely dismissed the story as propaganda, members of Egypt's parliament openly denounced Israel and its presumed plot to poison Egypt's youth. One member of parliament, Fathy Mansour, insisted that fifteen female students had been sexually assaulted by males who had chewed the gum. Local mosques began using loudspeakers to warn the community about the tainted gum and about the orgies believed to be occurring at the local university campus.

While chemists at the Ministry of Health tested different brands of gum and found no suspicious additives, Egyptian police started investigating Mansour's claims. No actual victims came forward but police still closed down many of the shops where gum could be purchased. Some store owners were even arrested though they were soon released after police failed to find any incriminating evidence. Soon enough, the rumours died down as people moved on to other stories though "sex gum" stories occasionally appeared in some newspapers.

Until the following year when a new tainted gum scare sprang up, this time in the Gaza Strip and along the West Bank. Said to be strawberry-flavoured and sold under brand names such as "Thunder in Paradise" and "The Legend of Pocahontas", this new gum was supposedly laced with sex hormones that would render women sterile, but only after turning them into sex fiends with uncontrollable urges. Much like in the previous tainted gum scare, extremist politicians jumped on the story and demanded that authorities confiscate the gum before it was too late. As some western journalists reporting on the story pointed out, the tainted gum rumour was becoming more fantastic as it continued to spread. Along with claims that hundreds of tons of tainted gum had been seized, some health officials suggested that Israel was planting the gum to turn Palestinian women into prostitutes who could be recruited by Israeli intelligence.

Of course, given that Israel was being blamed for the entire mess, other Palestinian officials insisted that the tainted gum was part of yet another plot to destroy the Palestinian people and Islam. Abdel Aziz Shaheen, the Palestinian Authorities' supply minister, the man who was in charge of importing food and supplies into the Palestinian territories, there was no question that Israel was putting sex hormones into the gum. And the effect of these sex hormones were pretty versatile. Along with corrupting and sterilizing women, the gum was also capable of "completely destroying the genetic system of young boys." As proof of this plot, samples of the gum were sent to a laboratory in Egypt which reportedly found traces of progesterone (a female sex hormone). Meanwhile, the Washington Post decided to check these findings by arranging for independent tests on gum samples they obtained from Palestinian authorities. In testing carried out by Dan Gibson at Hebrew University found no traces of any sex hormones in the gum.

Much like before, the rumours surrounding tainted gum died down and things more or less returned to normal. Perhaps not surprisingly, Yasser Arafat himself remained silent on the whole matter though he did nothing to rein in the rumours either. In much the same way, then-President Hosni Mubarak refused to comment on the sex gum rumours that were still a popular subject in Egypt's press. Political commentators weighing in on the tainted gum panic pointed out that anti-Israeli rumours tended to be especially popular whenever Israeli-Palestinian relations were particularly strained. During the 1970s, rumours that Israeli agents were poisoning Arab water supplies were especially popular and several cases of mass hysteria involving female students being affected by tainted water were also reported.

While never particularly destructive as panics go, the sex gum epidemics that occurred in Mansoura and the Palestinian territories are graphic examples of the way that rumours can be used to serve a particular agenda, whether political or otherwise. In an era where Internet panics are becoming more prevalent, it also helps highlight the need to check the facts rather than relying on something spread by word-of-mouth.

So don't be afraid to chew that stick of gum, but be sure to keep your hormones under control just in case.

December 01, 2017

When Mary Shelley published her now-classic novel Frankenstein or the Modern Prometheus in 1818, she did more than invent the modern science fiction genre. By creating the characters of Victor Frankenstein and his monster, she also established a new archetype: the arrogant scientist who dared to make life and tamper with God's plan for creation. The Frankenstein label has haunted scientists ever since.

In writing her novel, Mary Shelley drew from numerous sources (including her own husband Percy Bysshe Shelley and his friend Lord Byron who were both rabid science fans). The late 18th century and early 19th century was a turbulent era for scientists as new developments in electricity and the nature of life made even the most fantastic speculations seem possible. The idea that electricity might provide the "spark of life" was reinforced by the work of Luigi Galvani who described experiments using electric current to stimulate the legs of dead frogs. Rightly or wrongly, Galvani concluded in his 1792 work, In De Viribus Electricitatis in Motu Musculari ("On Electrical Powers in the Movement of Muscles") that electricity was the life force, or animating spirit. Suddenly the flood gates seemed open for scientists experimenting with life itself and England was at the forefront with the pioneering electricity experiments of Michael Faraday. Despite being largely self-educated (aside from his work as a bookbinder and an assistant to Humphrey Davy), Faraday's success inspired numerous fans to carry out their own experiments in private laboratories across the country.

The Squire of Fyne Court

One of Faraday's admirers, whose own experiments on the nature of life would make him the focus of one of the most bizarre episodes in the history of science, was Andrew Crosse, the squire of Fyne Court in Broomfield. Born in 1784, Crosse's life as the eldest son of a respectable family began to change when he developed a passionate interest in the natural sciences as an adolescent. After attending a series of lectures on electricity, he began his own experiments by constructing a Leyden jar and repeating many of the experiments discussed during the lectures. Despite his fascination with science, he followed the conventional path and became a law student at Brazen Nose College in Oxford. With the death of both of his parents by the time he was twenty-one however, Crosse returned home to take care of the family estates at Fyne Court. Along with continuing his friendships with some of the most prominent writers and scientists of his time, Crosse also set up his own laboratory where he could continue his life-long interest in electricity and mineralogy. Since his estate was not particularly prosperous, Crosse relied on hand-made apparatus that he used to electrocrystallize various minerals. Over the years, he carried out numerous experiments and made a series of original discoveries, some of which were published by his friend, George Singer, as part of his own work on electrochemistry.

"The Perfect Insect"

In 1836, Crosee carried out what would be his most controversial experiment. After soaking a porous stone in a mixture of potassium silicate and hydrochloric acid, Crosse ran an electrical current through the combined chemicals so that he could form silicate crystals. On the 26th day of the experiment, Crosse reported seeing what he described as "the perfect insect, standing erect on a few bristles which formed its tail". The insects then crawled away with hundreds more appearing in the following weeks. After identifying the insects as belonging to the Acaridae family, Crosse declared that the insects belonged to an entire new species of mites, acarus electricus (later changed to acarus crossii) although he carefully denied saying that he created them using electricity. As he would write afterward:

“In fact, I assure you most sacredly that I have never dreamed of any theory sufficient to account for their appearance. I confess that I was not a little surprised, and am so still, and quite as much as I was when the acari first made their appearance. Again, I have never claimed any merit as attaching to these experiments. It was a matter of chance. I was looking for silicious formations, and acari appeared instead…

Whatever the reason for the appearance of the mites, Crosse's proud discovery staggered his friends and family. He then sent his results to be published by the London Electrical Society and a local newspaper picked up on the story. While Francesco Redi's research had already disproven that spontaneous generation of life could actually happen, the belief was still common enough at the time. As well, electricity was new and mysterious enough for Crosse's claim to at least seem plausible. Still, the idea that a country squire could "create life" offended the religious sensibilities of just about everyone Crosse knew. His oldest friend, poet Robert Southey was shocked on hearing about what Crosse had been up to in his laboratory. He reportedly said, "It's the very Devil, Andrew". And that was relatively mild compared to what happened when his neighbours heard about it.

"Virulence and Abuse, Calumny and Misrepresentation"

Andrew Crosse already had a fairly sinister reputation in the area thanks to his public demonstrations of electricity on the grounds of Fyne Court using yards of iron wire strung together. Many of his peaceful neighbours called him the "thunder and lightning man" and declared him to be a "disturber of the peace of families" due to the noise of his scientific activities. Rumours that devils surrounded by lightning haunted Fyne Court and danced on the wires strung across the estate made them shun the area at night. That he was apparently playing God as well was too much for the local people to bear. Crosse found himself being denounced as an atheist and a blasphemer across all of England. According to Cornelia Crosse, in a biography of her husband that she wrote in later years, Andrew Crosse was deeply hurt over being targeted with "so much virulence and abuse, so much calumny and misrepresentation". Not only did he receive numerous angry letters denouncing him and his experiments but he was also the target of physical attacks. Local men, apparently drunk, attempted to smash down his fences, set fire to his crops, and kill his livestock. Others threw stones at Crosse as he went on his usual solitary walks. He was even accused of being responsible for a local potato blight (presumably caused by the insects he created).

If things weren't bad enough, a local clergyman carried out a public exorcism on the border of Crosse's estate. Holding up a bible, the clergyman shouted, "Reviler of our holy religion! Disturbance of our Christian peace! We came to ask Heaven's protection from you and your foulness!". No word on whether this ended the potato blight but Crosse was likely not amused. Upset over his treatment, Crosse became increasingly secluded with only his science and his young wife, Cornelia, for company. Although his extensive research continued, Andrew Crosse would write no more on the subject and most of the information about his original experiments have been lost. After his death in 1855, his wife wrote an extensive biography titled, "Memorials, scientific and literary of Andrew Crosse, electrician" which is the main source of available information on Crosse's acarus experiment and his later work.

So did Andrew Crosse create life?

Well, probably not. Still, the exact reason that the insects appeared during his experiments is an open question. While later scientists claimed to replicate his experiments (and even Faraday weighed in on the subject), Crosse's discovery eventually faded into obscurity. The most likely explanation for what he observed is that the insect eggs were already present in the porous stone that he used and that the electricity had somehow induced them to hatch. Given the later discovery of French biologist Stephane Leduc, that osmotic crystallization can produce crystalline structures that can mimic life in remarkable ways, it is also possible that Crosse and his imitators may have simply been mistaken about the "insects" that they were producing in their laboratories. Since Andrew Crosse was no biologist, he was unable to verify whether his apparatus had been contaminated in any way and the information contained in his wife's biography doesn't really shed any light on the controversy.

Whatever he really accomplished with his research, the very public condemnation that Andrew Crosse faced after announcing his discovery has a depressingly modern ring to it. Accusations of "playing God" and tampering with nature are still heard today and many researchers often face verbal abuse, death threats, and even violence by outraged opponents seeking to stop scientific progress. That Crosse could stoicly endure and carry on his research despite the various attacks on him and his family may well be a quiet inspiration for other researchers facing attack.

November 26, 2017

Even though the 19th century had more than its share of hucksters offering miracle remedies for any disease you could name, Giovanni Succi's name definitely stood out. Instead of offering a cure for rheumatism, consumption, or "female troubles," what Succi was even more wondrous: a cure for hunger itself. And he was willing to put this promised cure to the test.

Not that he was the first to make this sort of claim, mind you. For whatever reason, inedia (from the Latin word for "fasting") remained a hot topic throughout much of the 19th century. Stories of "fasting girls" who could survive without food remained common in many places across Europe and North America. Some 'hunger artists" even put on regular shows during which they would demonstrate their "miraculous" ability to go without food. During the mid-19th century, Londoners could pay a "voluntary" donation to see one particular faster, Bernard Cavanaugh, as he displayed his "powers of abstinence" to the world. He was soon arrested after one of the spectators recognized him at a shop where he was buying a ham sandwich. Though these claims continued to be successfully debunked, new cases still had a way of coming out of the woodwork.

Still, Giovanni Succi was a little harder to dismiss. Rather than grandiose claims of being able to go without food as a result of mystical training or a "miraculous" gift, Succi's strange ability stemmed from a special liqueur that he had supposedly discovered during his travels. Though some sources suggest that the ingredients in the elixir were nothing more than chloroform, morphine, ether, and "Indian hemp", Succi refused to confirm or deny this.

Born in Cesenatico, Italy in 1853, Succi's early life seemed unremarkable enough. Working as a bank clerk in Rome, and later as a commercial agent who traveled extensively through much of Africa, it was there that he reportedly discovered the miracle liqueur that would make him famous. Though he refused to say more about the elixir, he insisted that drinking it at regular intervals eliminated any need for eating food. In fact, he claimed to be able to go without food for weeks at a time without any ill effects.

Beginning in 1886 while Succi was living in Milan, he offered to have himself tested by any medical doctors to prove his ability to go without food. And many doctors took him up on his offer. Following a two-week fast in Paris where he was reportedly watched at all times by a committee, he then moved on to a more ambitious challenge: a 30-day fast in Milan and, later that same year, another 30-day fast in Paris. This allowed him to win a 15000-franc wager and, perhaps as importantly, establish himself as a celebrity.

He followed up his earlier fasts with one in 1888 during which he was watched by members of Florence's Accademia Medico-Fisico. Not only did he complete the fast with no apparent ill-effects, but the Accademia was impressed enough to confer a diploma on him afterward. In a description of this miracle fast (which was published in Scientific American in 1888), the committee members who had overseen Succi's fast wrote: "We the undersigned do certify that Signor Giovanni Succi of Censenatico in the Romagna, African traveler and explorer, has competed at Florence a fast of thirty days... We further declare that by his courageous experiment, and by his scrupulous fulfillment of every moral pledge undertaken by him towards us, Signor Succi has deserved well of science."

Not surprisingly, newspapers across Europe and North America carried stories about Giovanni Succi and his strange ability to go without food. It likely helped that he was an agile and muscular man with a striking appearance whose Italian looks appealed to female fans. An 1890 fast at London's Royal Aquarium lasted forty days with Succi consuming nothing but water and his mysterious elixir (he also smoked two pipes a day with the occasional cigar). By the end of his fast, he had lost more than 34 pounds in weight which, according to his personal physician, worked out to 26.5 percent of his original body mass. Despite this dramatic weight loss, the medical experts who had been monitoring the fast found no evidence of medical problems. Succi pocketed 3000 UK pounds for that performance.

Another famous fast took place that same year at the old Koster and Bial's Music Hall in New York City. The spectacle began on November 5, 1890 and Succi, ever the showman, had a hearty meal before the fast was set to start. According to one news story, his meal consisted of "anchovies, boiled trout, olives, celery, cressini, risotto, roast partridge, roast quail, grapes, pears, and a bottle of chianti." From that point on, for the next forty-five days, he would have nothing more than his mysterious elixir and water. Along with a committee of seven doctors who were charged with overseeing Succi's fast, there were numerous students from Bellevue Hospital as well as a crowd of spectators who had all paid admission to watch a man starve himself. Presumably it must have been quite a show since thousands of people came to watch during the course of his fast. When the fast ended on December 21, Succi was reportedly a "weak and miserable and pitiable object" though hundreds of people were packed in the hall waiting to hear the final results. On being told that Succi had successfully completely the fast despite losing 40 pounds, the cheers of the audience shook the building. He broke the fast with a sumptuous gourmet dinner and the newspapers carried full details of everything he ate. Succi was a star, after all.

Not all of his fasts were so successful however. In 1892, he was back in London for a repeat performance at the Royal Aquarium, this time for a mind-boggling 52-day fast. Unfortunately, he only lasted forty-four days before being forced to end the fast to take nourishment. Despite this setback, he continued his fasting performances across Europe, sometimes along with fencing and foot-racing demonstrations to show that he remained in good health despite not eating. During another 50-day fast in Vienna however, things didn't go so well and observers discovered food that had been smuggled to him. This didn't end his career though and, to prove he wasn't a fraud, Succi arranged to have himself bricked up in a prison cell during another fast in Verona. This time, he succeeded.

Still, the pressures of his continuous fasting eventually got to him. In 1896, during a fast in Paris, Succi became deranged and began smashing everything within reach. It took two police constables to restrain him and he sang Italian songs all the way to the police station. Audiences were delighted with his antics though there was nothing fake about his mental state. After a week in a local infirmary, he eventually returned to normal though his career was never quite the same. By the early 1900s, "hunger artists" had fallen out of fashion and Succi found himself having trouble making ends meet. One 30-day fast in Vienna only earned him twenty UK pounds, a pittance compared to what he used to make. After being forced to quit his performances, he eventually ended up as an asylum attendant before dying destitute in Florence in 1918.

Despite his sad end, Giovanni Succi managed to become part of popular culture. Years after Succi's death, the celebrated traveler and writer Robert Ripley wrote about him in his syndicated "Believe It Or Not" column as "the Fast Man." According to Ripley, Succi's 80 fasts worked out to an incredible 3200 days without food over the course of his stage career. As well, Franz Kafka's 1922 short story, "The Hunger Artist" is believed to be based on Succi's career and his later downfall.

While "breatharians" and their ilk continue to demonstrate their purported ability to go without food even today, none of them ever had the sheer panache or showmanship displayed by Giovanni Succi - king of the hunger artists.

November 14, 2017

Following an investigation into the February 11 death of an inmate at the Oklahoma County jail, officials have officially banned a nurse from seeing any more inmates. Their reason: the nurse, 67-year-old Linda Herlong Jackson, reportedly began conducting an exorcism rather than helping to restrain the combative inmate.

Jackson, a resident of Oklahoma City working for the jail's medical provider, Armor Correctional Health Services, denied the allegation though detention officers have testified that the nurse clearly stated, "I revoke you demons" while the inmate was screaming and thrashing. Another witness reported that Jackson asked first if anyone mind if she conducted the exorcism. The ritual was interrupted by the arrival of a sheriff's lieutenant on the scene who then took charge.

The deceased inmate, 32-year-old Annette Lynette Freeman, had been arrested for methamphetamine possession and began experiencing seizure-like activity in her cell on February 10. Though Jackson was supposed to get the inmate's vital signs, she had difficulty due to the thrashing and reportedly conducted the exorcism instead. Detention officers were eventually able to restrain the inmate and move her to the jail's medical floor where she died the next day. An autopsy determined that she died of a coronary event linked to methamphetamine use.

Agents with the Oklahoma State Bureau of Investigation interviewed Jackson after the inmate's death. Though she denied conducting an exorcism, she did state in a phone interview with local media that the deceased inmate had supernatural strength. She also emphasized that the patient didn't die on her shift and that she was an excellent nurse who like her job and was liked by the inmates at the jail where she had been working for six years. Describing her nursing work as "a form of serving God," she insisted that the allegations arose because her supervisor had been trying to have her fired.

In explaining the decision to ban the nurse from the jail, incoming Sheriff P.D. Taylor insisted that the exorcism incident proved that she wasn't fit to work with inmates. "Her job is to provide medical care," he said. "Doing what she was doing was not providing medical care." An investigator from the sheriff's department is set to meet with District Attorney David Prater about the incident and whether criminal charges should be laid if the inmate death was due to a delay in medical attention.

November 12, 2017

When retired math teacher John Hildreth ran into a former pupil, Don Homuth, in Fargo, N.D. back in the 1970s, he was apparently inspired give him an old map he had inherited from his grandfather. As Homuth, a former Nebraska state senator, would later report, his old teacher said at the time that he probably had the perspective and sense of humour to appreciate the strange gift. Whether out of respect for Hildreth or because he really did have a sense of humour, the map would stay in his possession for another forty years. It was only in 2011, when Don Homuth decided to donate the map to the Library of Congress, that he finally discovered what a find it really was.

As the only complete copy of the "Map of the Square and Stationary Earth" created by Orlando Ferguson in 1893, it represented a strange glimpse into the mindset of one of 19th century America's most bizarre religious zealots. Very little is known about "Professor" Orlando Ferguson today except that he lived in Hot Springs, North Dakota and dedicated himself to proving that the Bible's description of the universe was the only true one. Insisting that the Bible was fundamentally incapable of error, Ferguson used the various biblical passages to create a map of the world that was, well, different from the one you've probably been taught in school.

For not only was the Earth in Ferguson's map completely flat, it was also square with the North Pole as the central point for the Earth's four corners. As for the Earth's edges, they are shrouded in cold and make up the region we incorrectly call the South Pole. He also insisted that the Sun was a mere 3500 miles from the Earth and turns on its own axis around the stationary Earth along with the moon (which is only 2000 miles away) and the stars, all with the Earth at the centre of the universe. And the planets? They didn't exist. Solar and lunar eclipses were due to the tiny stars that sometimes got in the way of the moon or the sun. Given that he insisted that the sun only had a diameter of thirty miles while the moon was only slightly smaller at twenty miles, it seems amazing that eclipses didn't happen more often in his worldview.

In talking about the various scientists, living or dead, that Ferguson was trying to discredit, he had nothing good to say. As far as he was concerned, they were all a pack of liars inspired by the devil to cast doubt on biblical teachings. Based on his own study of Scripture, Ferguson reported finding more than 200 passages which he felt refuted the globe theory. These included passages in which Joshua ordered the sun and the moon to stand still and the various references to the four corners of the and foundations of the Earth. But he also talked about the Gospel tradition in which Satan took Jesus to a high mountain and showed him "all the kingdoms of the world and glory of them." As he triumphantly pointed out, no mountain in the world could have been high enough if the world really was a globe.

But what about compass needles, you ask? Ferguson had that covered as well. In a magazine that he used to publish titled, "The Square World" , he denied that it had anything to do with "loadstone" (sic). He claimed that needles pointed north due to the great masses of ice to the north and south which magnetizes all railroad tracks running north and south. To demonstrate the truth of this, he offered the following experiment: "The first time you are on the Illinois Central or any other road that runs north or south, whet your knife on its rails and you will find that it will be magnetized enough to pick up a needle. Rails running east and west won't magnetize your knife blade."

While all copies of Ferguson's magazine have long since been lost, various newspaper articles have preserved a few precious tidbits intended to refute global theorists. Though globalists have long pointed out that a ship's hull disappears below the horizon before the stem and mast as proof of a spherical Earth, Ferguson had an answer for that as well. "Everyone knows that near the surface, the vapor rising from the water is very dense and it hides the hull of the vessel before it does the mast." As for various claims from world travelers of traveling around the world, all that Ferguson proposed a simple experiment: "Suppose you draw a large circle in a room, and that someone carries a light around that circle. Let that circle represent the equator and the light the sun. If you follow light, you are going west and you come back to where you started. It is the same in going around the world. You can only go around a large circle on top of it. No man has gone around the world or will go."

When not busily rewriting geography textbooks and trying to sell his book by mail order, Orlando Ferguson operated a health resort near his town of Hot Springs, N.D. Living up the town's name, his resort boasted a house and sanitarium where customers could bathe in the mineral springs located on the property. Ever the entrepreneur, he also bottled the water and offered it for sale by mail order. But that was just a sideline, really. He was mainly interested in spreading the word about discrediting the "globe theory" as he stated in one newspaper advertisement that ran in a Lincoln, Nebraska newspaper on August 23, 1891. Having written a 30-page pamphlet that would “set the world thinking”, he wanted to hire agents in “every city on Earth to sell them and, with a retail price of 25 cents each, he insisted that they would “sell at sight.” Interested parties were urged to contact him at his Hot Springs address (no word on whether he would throw in a bottle of mineral water to entice more customers).

Sadly, his zeal never convinced more than a handful of supporters and Ferguson largely faded into obscurity, along with what remained of his Hot Springs resort. His later financial projects, including speculating in Hot Springs real estate and acting as a frontman for a strange scheme to display the petrified body of a Native American man supposedly discovered near his hometown never seemed to go anywhere either.

Visitors to the Library of Congress can still see Orlando Ferguson's map and several copies of his book can be found as well. While he was hardly the first or the last flat earther to try to make a name for himself, his strange map still represents one of the most comprehensive attempts of its kind ever made.

November 05, 2017

Clark Stanley, a.k.a. "the Rattlesnake King", always knew how to put on a good show.

According to one news account describing his appearance in Hartford, Connecticut's city hall square on July 1, 1902, members of the audience got to watch as Stanley beheaded and skinned one of the rattlesnakes he had on display. Dressed in a "combination cowboy and Indian suit with a novelty in the shape of a four-in-hand tie made of snake skins", the Rattlesnake King showed off his skill in dealing with snakes, as well as how he used the freshly skinned snake to extract the oil that he offered on sale to willing customers. For, yes, Clark Stanley was indeed the original "snake oil" salesman and his rattlesnake oil was billed as a sure-fire remedy for chronic pain and inflammation resulting from lumbago, arthritis, animal bites, and scratches. Quite a bargain for 50 cents a bottle, really.

The process of extracting rattlesnake oil, which Stanley claimed to have learned from Hopi medicine men, was straightforward enough. After decapitating the snake, Stanley then cut the snake open and plunged the body into a pot of boiling water. This supposedly released snake fat that rose to the surface of the water and which he then scooped up and poured into bottles which he then offered up for sale as "Clark Stanley's Snake Oil Liniment." At least, this was what he did during his frequent "medicine shows" on his travel circuit across much of the United States. Not only did countless potential customers line up whenever he came to town, but his graphic killing and dismembering of a rattlesnake was one of the highlights of the 1893 World's Fair in Chicago (and a little more family friendly than what H.H. Holmes was doing nearby in his Murder Castle). That the thousands of bottles which he sold through his traveling shows and mail order business rarely had any real snake ingredients was something that wouldn't come out until much later.

We know very little about Clark Stanley's aside from his (mostly fictional) autobiography published in 1897 titled, The Life and Adventures of the American Cowboy: Life in the Far West. Whether or not Stanley actually had the, er, colourful life he descried in his book and his numerous shows, he certainly played the role to perfection. Oh, and the snakes? They were real too. Whenever he did his show, he brought a few rattlers with him to act as props to entice audiences to buy his miracle liniment. As he told reporters, his Texas snake farm boasted hundreds of rattlers though, thanks to the demand for his product, he often had to buy more from animal farms across the country when he ran out. Aside from his liniment, he sold a variety of other rattlesnake-based products and even boasted of his fondness for rattlesnake stew (presumably with the venom sacs removed). Business was so good, in fact, that he had other showmen go on the road as well to sell his products.

Though he was far from the first huckster to sell snake oil remedies, he was definitely the most well known. And there was some basis to the belief in his liniment's effectiveness thanks to Chinese traditional medicine. The Chinese labourers working the railroads often purchased oil made from Chinese water snakes to relieve pain from arthritis and bursitis. While the medical value of this kind of snake oil seems legitimate enough, Clark Stanley and his competitors seemed disinclined to buy snakes from China to sell in the U.S. Instead, he decided to find a local substitute in the form of rattlesnakes which, due to their lethal reputation, had a mystique that he hoped to entice buyers.

Unfortunately, rattlesnakes aren't Chinese water snakes. Not only don't their bodies contain as much of the valuable oils that their Eastern counterparts do but they're also much more venomous. And, as Clark Stanley was soon to find out, supply didn't even come close to meeting demand for his miracle product. Which is apparently what made him decide to, um, tinker with his original formula. Unfortunately for him however, the world was already changing for medical hucksters of all stripes.

By 1906, the Pure Food and Drug Act had been passed and tough new standards were put in place to prevent the sale of adulterated food and medication. The Department of Agriculture established a "poison squad" headed up by Chief Chemist Harvey Washington Wiley conducted stringent testing of a wide range of different products being sold to the public. Still, given the various public battles over better health standards for various food industries, Wiley and his squad had their hands full. Which was why it wasn't until 1917 when government inspectors finally seized a shipment of Stanley's snake liniment and conducted a thorough analysis of its contents.

What they discovered was that Clark Stanley's Snake Oil Liniment didn't contain any snake products whatsoever. According to the official report, the bottles contained a rather bizarre mixture of mineral oil, camphor, cayenne pepper, animal fat, and turpentine. While Stanley was charged under the Pure Food and Drug Act for "misbranding" his product, all that amounted to was a measly $20 fine. Still, the government report helped kill the demand for his product and Stanley soon found himself out of business. Even though his scam had likely made him a wealthy man, he never really recovered and quickly faded into obscurity.

Though there have been other medical hucksters since Clark Stanley, his snake oil is still famous enough to lend its name to the myriad other products of dubious medical validity being sold today. So spare a though to Stanley and his hucksterism the next time you see some new miracle remedy for sale. Snake oil doesn't just come from snakes any more.

November 03, 2017

Beginning in 1632, rumours spread throughout the town of Loudon, France about a strange outbreak occurring in the local Ursuline convent. All of the nuns, including the Mother Superior, began experiencing strange convulsions and "using abusive language" (although the lurid details kept changing as the rumours spread). Although the nuns and their priest had attempted to hide what was happening for as long as possible, tales of the demonic possession occurring in the convent eventually led to a formal investigation.

The convent, which had only been founded a few years earlier, already had a reputation for pious living and also functioned as a boarding school for the daughters of well-off families. Almost all of the seventeen nuns in the convent, including the Mother Superior Jeanne des Anges, belonged to minor noble families although the sisters had a difficult time making ends meet. The convent had no income aside from tuition fees and their only significant property was the convent house itself. Due to the reforms imposed by the Council of Trent some decades previously, convent life was strictly controlled by the Church with no males allowed inside the convent walls except for the Father Confessor.

On recently being appointed to that post, the new Confessor Canon Mignon was certainly alarmed by what the nuns began telling him about strange nightly visitations by demons, apparently intent on seducing them. Beginning with the Mother Superior herself and eventually spreading to all of the other nuns in the convent, signs of demonic possession, including sexual moaning, convulsions, speaking in tongues (glossolalia), and visions quickly spiraled out of control. Canon Mignon consulted various medical doctors and eventually arranged for exorcisms to try controlling what was happening. He and his fellow priests became increasingly alarmed when the nuns reacted to the exorcisms by screaming and making lewd sexual advances towards the priests. Even more outrageous was the Mother Superior accusing a local priest, Urbain Grandier, of being responsible for what was happening. The nuns, led by Jeanne des Anges, insisted that the possessions were due to two devils named Asmodeus and Zabulon and that Grandier had sent them to the convent after throwing roses over the convent wall.

Grandier was, by all accounts, a most unusual priest. Handsome and well-connected, he had already gained a scandalous reputation, not only for being politically outspoken but also for the less-than discreet affairs that he had with numerous women in the town (including fathering several children). Despite numerous complaints by outraged husbands and fathers, Grandier was protected by the local Huguenot community who admired his outspokenness and his bold attacks on the Church and its special privileges. When his bishop had Grandier arrested in 1630, he was formally banned from serving as a priest in Loudun at which point his family and friends went to work on his behalf. Using bribery and intimidation of the witnesses against Grandier, they managed to have him reinstated in 1631. All that the ecclesiastic panel was able to do was to issue a mild warning for Grandier to “behave well and decently according to the Holy Decretals and Canonical Constitutions”. Although the bishop warned Grandier to leave Loudun, he ignored the advice and regarded his acquittal as a total victory. He even went so far as to harass all of the townspeople who had testified against him including demanding legal restitution in court. While friends tried to talk him out of this campaign, he ignored them all. It would be a costly mistake.

Ironically, Urbain Grandier had offered his name for the post of Father Confessor for the Ursuline convent in town despite his sinister reputation. The job went to Canon Mignon instead and sparked an uncomfortable rivalry between the two priests, especially since Mignon had been involved in his previous trial. As for the nuns, many of whom had supported Grandier becoming the Father Confessor for the convent, exactly what was causing the strange stories of nightly visitations and demonic seductions is still open to question. Whether Urbain Grandier was actually sneaking into the convent somehow or that the strange epidemic was entirely due to mass hysteria on the part of the nuns, the rumours of what was happening in the convent spread beyond the town. Not only did parents withdraw all of the convent’s students one by one, but the convent's nuns were left completely destitute when their own families withdrew all support.

Grandier knew full well the danger that he was in and he arranged with the Archbishop of Bourdeaux to have his personal doctor examine the nuns. When no medical evidence for the possessions was found, the Archbishop ordered the exorcisms to end and arranged for the nuns to be imprisoned n their cells. Canon Mignon and his assistant then went over the Archbishop's head and asked King Louis XIII's chief minister Cardinal Richelieu to order an investigation. Since Richelieu was a frequent target of Grandier's political diatribes, he likely saw this as an excellent opportunity to rid himself of the renegade priest once and for all. That one of Richelieu's own relatives was one of the Loudun nuns likely didn't help matters either. The Cardinal sent a team of investigators to Loudun and authorized them to do whatever was necessary to end the possessions (including threatening to tear down the convent and the surrounding town).

During a public exorcism conducted before more than seven thousand people, the chief exorcist, Father Jean-Joseph Surin invited the demons possessing the nuns to inhabit his own body, the demons reportedly complied and he "lost mental balance as a result". Father Surin inflicted various injuries on himself and then attempted suicide. After being restrained and regaining his sanity,the exorcist said that he was "unable to understand what happened to him" when the unknown spirit entered his body. As the exorcisms continued, the accusations against Grandier became even more lurid and the nuns claimed that they were possessed by a multitude of demons. When Grandier attempted an exorcism himself to clear his name, the supposedly possessed nuns answered his threats by making him seem more guilty than ever (their testimony had likely been coached by Richelieu's investigators). After a formal document surfaced, allegedly showing the pact between Grandier and Satan and written in blood, Grandier's fate was likely sealed.

Urbain Grandier was imprisoned at the Castle of Angier in December, 1633. Despite protests by his supporters, he was stripped, shaved, and his body searched for "devil's marks". When he refused to confess to sorcery, he was repeatedly tortured according to the practices laid out n the Malleus Maleficarum. Anyone courageous enough to speak out on Grandier's behalf (including some of the nuns) were threatened by the Church and the Crown. Eventually, the presiding inquisitor announced that anyone who testified in favour of Grandier would be declared traitors to France and have their property seized. 4

With all supporters silenced, the outcome of Urbain Grandier's trial was a foregone conclusion. He was found guilty of magic, maleficia, and of "causing demoniacal possession of several Ursuline nuns of this town of Loudun, as well as of other secular women, together with other charges and crimes resulting therefrom". Grandier's steadfast refusal to confess his crime despite being his torture and the severity of his punishment hardly moved his persecutors. As one of the monks charged with trying to convert him prior to his execution later said, "I am not astonished at his impenitence, nor at his refusal to admit himself guilty of magic, both under torture and at his execution, for it is known that magicians promise the devil never to confess the crime, and he in turn hardens their heart".

Despite promises that he would be allowed to make a public statement and that he would be humanely garroted beforehand, Urbain Grandier was burned alive at the stake on August 18, 1634. According to one story, Grandier promised that one of the attending priests, Father Lactance, would died within thirty days and that many of his other persecutors would die as well. While Father Lactance died on schedule (reportedly crying that he was not responsible for Grandier's death), the legends surrounding Urbain Grandier and the Loudun possessions hardly ended there. Many of the participants who were involved in Grandier's execution died within a few years of his execution, whether due to remorse or a dying magician's curse seems to depend on which account of the time you happen to read.

And the Loudun possessions didn't end with Grandier's death either. Mother Superior Jeanne des Anges (who seemed to have some exaggerated views of her own piety) insisted that the exorcisms continue since she and her nuns were still being possessed by devils. Public exorcisms of the nuns continued until 1637 when Richelieu himself ordered them stopped and the investigation ended. Hardly anyone else in positions of power really believed that Grandier had been guilty but the story of the Loudun possessions and Grandier's fate made for a graphic lesson of what happened to anyone who crossed Cardinal Richelieu. That the public exorcisms helped convince many local Protestants to convert to Catholicism seemed to be an extra benefit. As for the "contract" with Satan supposedly signed by Grandier, many modern historians are divided over whether Grandier's signature had been completely forged or whether Grandier had signed it himself during one of his torture sessions.

Whether the Loudun possessions began with mass hysteria or as an entirely staged power play on Cardinal Richelieu's part, the case has been examined in depth by numerous authors including Alexander Dumas (pere) and Jules Michelet. Aldous Huxley's full-length book, The Devils of Loudun was published in 1952 and inspired a successful stage play as well as a classic horror film by Ken Russell. The continuing fascination with Urbain Grandier's case may well be due to the role that religious persecution and cynical political manipulation played in his torture and gruesome death. That accused sorcerers are being killed today over evidence just as flimsy as what condemned Grandier centuries ago suggests that the lessons of his case have still not been learned.

October 17, 2017

On Sunday, July 30, three women living in Kangan Heri village in the Indian state of Delhi reported that an unknown agent, whether human or not, somehow rendered them unconscious and then cut their braids off. The women, who ranged in age from 50 to 60, denying seeing who was responsible. All they could remember was experiencing a severe headache before losing consciousness and waking up to find their braids had been cut. Though police were baffled by the incidents, the braids were sent out to be tested while a forensic team investigated all three homes.

Over the past three months, numerous episodes of braid chopping have been reported across different parts of India. The reported victims range in age from small children to the elderly though their stories are remarkably similar. In all cases, none of the women show signs of physical injury aside from their missing hair. While some have provided physical descriptions of their purported attackers, there are few real similarities and some victims claim that their attacker wasn't human.

Along with sparking a hysteria that has left many women afraid and sleepless, vigilante mobs have targeted people suspected of being responsible. Cases of men and women accused of being braid choppers and being physically assaulted are being reported in different areas across India. Many of the suspected braid choppers were either tourists, people known to be mentally ill, or strangers to the area where they were accused. In one gruesome case, a 70-year-old man suspected of being a braid chopper was lynched in South Kashmir's Anantnag District. Two men in Nagaur were also arrested for assaulting a mentally-challenged woman whom they accused of chopping braids and practicing witchcraft.

Though police believe the entire braid chopping epidemic is an example of mass hysteria, media coverage is helping spread the panic even further. Paranoia is leading to increasing pressure to keep women and children safe at home to protect them from the evil influence at work.

October 15, 2017

Though the town of Wildisbuch in the Swiss parish of Trullikon is hard to find today, it must have seemed to a peaceful place back in the 19th century. That it would become the site of one of the most gruesome religious murders of the 19th century, not to mention earning the place a notoriety that lingers even today, seems hard to believe. But it happened all the same.

The young woman who would be at the centre of this bizarre Swiss passion play certainly showed no sign beforehand of the violence that she would bring to her family. Born in 1794 on Christmas Day, Margaretta Peter was the youngest of five daughters born to John Peter and his wife and, except for her mother's death shortly after her birth, grew up with all the love and care that her father, sisters, and brother could lavish on her. Raised in the Zwinglian Protestant faith along with the rest of her family, Margaretta showed remarkable religious zeal from early childhood. Even her pastor was impressed - at first.

Despite being the youngest child, Margaretta had a forceful personality that allowed her to dominate all her older siblings. Even the two sisters who managed to get married still deferred to her religious opinions and moral teachings while her unmarried sisters became her disciples in every way that mattered. Long after the horrific events that I am about to describe, family members continued to praise Margaretta and her teachings. Her father himself would say of her that, ""I am assured that my youngest daughter was set apart by God for some extraordinary purpose."

And she showed that sense of divine purpose from an early age. By the age of six, she was reading the Bible and summoning family members to gather around while she gave sermons. Along with regular prayer sessions, she also urged her father and siblings to live in complete accord with Christ's teachings (as defined by her). Even when she took first communion in 1811, she amazed her congregation with her religious fervour and sheer joy.

In 1816, her mother's brother invited her to live with him in the nearby town of Rudolfingen and act as his housekeeper. Her time at her uncle's house brought her into contact with a Pietist religious community and to attend their services. The Pietists were an extremely fundamentalist Lutheran sect that was spreading across many parts of Europe. Unfortunately, this exposure to Pietism also meant a radical change in Margaret's personality, something even her siblings found disturbing. When asked why the normally happy girl was so despondent, she replied that God was revealing Himself to her and making her more aware of her own sinful nature. But that was just the beginning.

By 1817, she had left her uncle's home and returned to Wildisbuch to establish herself as a revivalist to preach the word of God. This meant returning to her father's home and getting to know three new servants who had been hired while she was away: Heinrich Ernst, Ursula Kundig, and Margaret Jaggli. Both servants would soon play an important role in Margaretta's strange crusade: Margaret because of the epileptic seizures that she hoped would be cured by Margaretta's prayers, Heinrich for his blind loyalty to the Peter family, and Ursula who asked Margaretta to be her "spiritual guide through life and eternity."

It was Ursula who became Margaretta's most fervent disciple. In lavishing praise on her new spiritual mentor, Ursula openly said of Margaretta,"that Christ revealed Himself in the flesh through her, and that through her many thousands of souls were saved." Almost inevitably, the Peter household was flooded by religious minded people from around the area, all of whom gathered to hear Margaretta's sermons. But she soon became tired of her father's household and ,by 1820, decided to travel across the country preaching her gospel. Though she went alone at times, Margaretta often took her either her devoted sister Elizabeth or Ursula Kundig with her.

Margaretta's religious crusade drew people in from all over Switzerland. It was during the course of her wandering that she met a shoemaker named Jacob Morf. Despite being married, Morf seemed mesmerized by Margaretta and she quickly came to feel the same about him. Though it's hard to say whether there was anything physical in their relationship, she and Morf exchanged passionate letters that are still preserved in a Zurich archive. She also announced to him that they would ascend to Heaven together and would share one throne for all eternity. Morf's wife, Regula, was less than thrilled by this strange relationship though her husband managed to relieve her suspicions (at least for a while).

In late 1822, police became alerted when Margaretta and Elizabeth vanished without a trace. After months of searching, the two women turned up on their own on January 8, 1823. Though Margaretta was pale and visibly ill, she refused to say where she and her sister had been. Not long afterward, Jacob Morf turned up at the Peter house, apparently due to a message from Margaretta that the two of them would soon be ascending to Heaven together.

Whatever had happened to her during her absence, Margaretta's behaviour had become more bizarre than ever. She and Elizabeth confined themselves to a single room in the house where they read the Bible and prayed almost non-stop. She seemed obsessed with earning God's forgiveness for her life of sin (not that she shared with anyone what those sins were). When not in her room praying, she would often come downstairs to meet with her followers and share her prophecies with them. As for Jacob Morf, his work and marriage soon drew him back home.

In Morf's absence, Margaretta's religious obsession became even stronger as Easter approached. During one of her episodes, she announced: ""Behold! I see the host of Satan drawing nearer and nearer to encompass me. He strives to overcome me. Let me alone that I may fight him." She apparently believed that the Devil would be coming to claim the souls of all humanity and that she alone stood in his way. With that in mind, she ordered the house to be closed up completely with no "worldly" people being allowed to cross the threshold. That included the local pastor who tried to express his concern about what was happening. And, given the control Margaretta had over the entire household, that's exactly what they did.

Considering the religious hysteria that had gripped the entire household, things went pretty much as you might expect. One evening, Margaret Jaggli reacted to hearing a loud pop from the fireplace by going into convulsions. Screaming that the Devil had come for her, she pleaded with Margaret and the others to pray and save her soul. This led Margaretta to scream out, "Depart, thou murderer of souls, accursed one, to hell-fire. Wilt thou try to rob me of my sheep that was lost? My sheep—whom I have pledged myself to save?"

Though Margaret soon recovered, she continued to have seizures and the rest of the household began having religious visions themselves. Margaret wrote to Jacob Morf to come to her aid and, on March 8, 1823, he finally arrived at Wildisbuch along with two other believers.

And then, with all of the true believers gathered under one roof and in a state of acute religious mania, the final battle for Armageddon could begin.